What Happens After - An AnnieFinnick FanFiction
by AbbyxEliza
Summary: "Annie. Oh Annie, please." Finnick said softly, his face somber. There was nothing I could do, but stare at him with my dull eyes. I wasn't ready to speak, and I had never talked to him before – except to stare at him. But he always came to my door, but never… never this close. "I dream about you, Annie Cresta."


Please enjoy, and let me know what you think.

It will get a bit more exciting, stay tuned...

It was silent, the sounds of tiny breaths I managed to force out of my already dry lips. They felt like chalk, something that came as a gift to the districts, but I had been fortunate to have before. When you pressed it against the green chalkboard, or any solitary substance it let out a squealing noise that made everyone cover his or her ears. The noises in front of me didn't sound much different.

"Annie! Run," Quiddix coaxed, eyes pleading but I was locked in place – my feet were glued to the contraption, a simple metallic box that kept me up. For a moment, I wanted to desperately fall to my feet and pound against the box, sob and pull my hair; each fist would hit the box, but even standing there replaying my options in my mind, I knew it would be no use. The Capitol would zoom in on my weakness, and it would be the perfect beginning for their little show.

"Quiddix, I… can't." A tiny gasp came out of my throat and my shoulders hunched over, as if something was trying to crawl up my windpipe. Each scratch of the finger nails against my throat sent a shiver down my spine. "They're killing each other, Quiddix." My voice felt mute, my lips were just moving as if the entire world was suddenly under water and it was just Annie Cresta. The girl with no hope, the unruly brown hair and the pink lips. A sight to see, but not special.

Everything slowed down, as she turned her head and watched us. The way her blonde hair fell to her ears in tiny tufts was pretty – she seemed like a delicate fairy in her small black boots. The only thing that made her frightening was how her eyes latched onto Quiddix, my district partner, a small smile playing on her lips. And of course, the steel axe she swung between her feeble fingers.

I wanted to scream, and I thought I had been – but Quiddix was clueless, his back to her. Just watched my lips move, and I reached out to grab him; but it was far too late. The clean chop of the axe hit his neck, and his pale blue eyes were rolling with his head like a rock, onto the ground and through the dust.

Awaking with a scream, the heavy tears dripping down my cheeks pouring like faucets – choking on what sanity I had, grapping at my throat. I needed a drink of water, something to keep down the vomit threatening to come up and make me weaker. I was already alone, with him gone. Gone, gone, _gone._ The bed was too big, and I slept in the middle, as if my petite frame could make up for two puzzle pieces.

Somehow my feet hit the ground, knowing I'd only have a few moments before Katniss would run to my room – knock on the door and check to see if I was alright. Touching the walls, I focused on getting into the bathroom and taking a tiny gulp of water from the small, but steady stream of water the faucet supplied. Placing my hands underneath and splashing my face a few times, everything seemed to be okay. I was still in District Thirteen. But only, for a moment before the memories came again – in a way, worse then the nightmares.

_"Annie?" Finnick mumbled, nervously leaning against the frame of the house I had made my home. If he hadn't been so persistent in talking to me, I might've thought he was here to tease me, the psychotic Annie Cresta. The District Four joke, which lived in a make believe fantasy. I was the strongest swimmer, I was the strongest. He was so beautiful; his hair fell in his face in a slightly angelic way – easy to love. Most of the girls did, anyways. There was no way I would say anything to him, my tongue rested in my mouth like dust in an attic._

_ He made his way into the room, where I lied in bed – just watching him with wide eyes. I thought that after the Games – we were done. He had been visiting me since, and I wasn't sure what that meant. Did I even want it to mean something? Don't attach yourself. Attaching means… for a moment, the thoughts of the arena struck and my eyes glazed. I knew I was drifting; by the way Finnick was immediately at my bedside. "Annie, please I need you right now," He begged, his voice sincere._

_ And then the blackness was gone, and there was the pressure of his fingers against my hand that lay flat against the bed. Aside from being fed soup from the other woman who visited kindly to take turns caring for me, I barely used my muscles. We don't talk! I wanted to scream, hold him until he looked and understood. We don't talk, why do you bother me?_

_ "Annie. Oh Annie, please." Finnick said softly, his face somber. There was nothing I could do, but stare at him with my dull eyes. I wasn't ready to speak, and I had never talked to him before – except to stare at him. But he always came to my door, but never… never this close. "I dream about you, Annie Cresta."_

There was the knocking, and I wrapped my arms around my blossoming stomach, which seemed to advance every few days, rather then weeks. Opening the door, Katniss was standing there – brows furrowed, knitting together like they were caterpillars. She knew, how the nightmares worked. And whereas she promised Peeta did too, it wasn't the same.

I knew it was wrong, screaming so loudly in my sleep, I tried to muffle the sounds with a pillow – but part of me wanted to wake someone. So they could come and help me, cuddle me to sanity. Peeta had tried once, but there wasn't much he could do but reassuringly pat my head and apologize gravely. At least Katniss had lost Prim, Peeta though… I didn't know much of his family.

And just seeing her face, the guilt seeped into my body, along with a mix of comfort. "K-Katniss," I said softly, slipping my arms around her neck and nestling my face in the crook of her body, where her shoulder was. Immediately, her warm arms were on my lower back, patting me softly. There wasn't much to be said, and just as quickly as she'd come, Katniss had begun to get me back in bed.

I was fairly certain; I was nothing but an issue to deal with. But in an odd way, Katniss had taken a liking to caring for me. "A part of you," she'd told me once, slipping an arm around my shoulders at breakfast. It was turnips, and a few eggs. "Reminds me of Prinn's innocence." Surely, it wasn't the crazy part. Only one person loved that part of me, and he was so gone.

"Let's get you to bed, alright? I think it'd almost time to wake up, anyways." Katniss said softly, and I allowed myself to lie down and close my eyes for long enough – just until she was fairly certain I was asleep. Breathing slowly, I heard the door close, before opening my eyes. Five hours, until I had the day to brave; and right now the memories were so viciously attacking my head – I would never be able to sleep. Slipping my hands to my stomach, I traced small circles, letting each memory attack me.

_I knew, all along that he was the District's dreamboat. He was gorgeous, but also charming in a polite way. The kind of boy you'd take home to meet your parents if you had any, the kind of boy you'd hide in your closet as your parents checked to see if you had any visitors – after hours. Of course, Finnick Odair wasn't on my radar as much as he was to the other girls._

_ After he'd finished being my mentor – I thought we were done talking._

_ He was all over the place, getting a taste of every girl – metaphorically and literally. I had decided that I would die alone, and although sometimes I would cry, it was something that I'd accepted and would get used to overtime. When Finnick asked me on a proper date though, it came as a shock. Who would ask Annie, on a date? How could he, so perfectly flawless, ask her? She was broken._

_ And it was true, I did nothing but lie in bed and sob – eating only what my stomach could hold down. The Hunger Games took a serious toll on me, and it wasn't anything I felt would ever disappear. The memories… It was only two months after the games he had asked me, properly._

_ We'd begin to hang out, or rather; he'd come and sit with me. Occasionally asking to feed me the soup, discovering my favorites by the wrinkle of my nose or the widening of my eyes. Always pestering the ladies, "Bring her shrimp, it's her favorite!" Or insisting he held my hair when I'd wake up from a nap I would rudely drift into taking, during a conversation. The vomit killing my throat, but he would just place a cooling rag against my neck and mummer apologies. But for what? It wasn't his fault. He was the best mentor I could ask for._

_ Eventually, Merry – the middle aged woman who had been carrying for me that day had enough of Finnick, something that happened rarely to anyone. "Why don't you care for her, Mr. Odair? You seem to know more then the rest of us!" She snapped, wringing her hands as he blinked slowly, obviously never thinking of the idea. His eyes hesitated on my face, before a big lopsided smile appeared on his face._

_ "How about it, Cresta?"_

I hadn't even begun to get into the memory when the door shook, someone pounding against it bitterly. I could hear Katniss pleading with someone, obviously the hand against the door.

"She doesn't need it, Haymitch… Not now, please – She's so delicate…" Katniss begged, it was rare she ever did. She was so strong, something I had always admired from her. Of course, there were other things, but it was something that radiated off of her, something I would never have again. Finally, the door opened.

I was unaware of how long I'd been lying there, but my joints were stiff as I leaned up. An hour or two, perhaps. "We found him." Haymitch said flatly. I glanced up, lips pursed thoughtfully. What were they talking about? It took my disfigured brain to catch up to the pace they were rolling at. Katniss, judging my emotions. "We found Finnick's body."


End file.
